


Secret Admirer

by fujoshi_robin



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Costume Kink, Dream Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Painful Sex, Rape, Rape Fantasy, Sexual Fantasy, elements of interrogation and voyeurism, mention of Jason Todd as Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-17 21:37:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10602756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fujoshi_robin/pseuds/fujoshi_robin
Summary: Tim dreams about being strapped to a table in a dark cave and the Batman, the hero of Gotham, violating him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a fill for a request on the Gotham General kink meme ! You can check out the awesome (18+) kink meme here: https://gotham-general.dreamwidth.org/ 
> 
> The request:
> 
> "Before Tim became Robin, he followed Batman at night with a camera and had a sort of obsession. What if Tim jerked off to fantasies where he's held down by big leather hands, and the hero he idolized had his way with him?"

Tim sinks into the bed, lying on his back and breathing hard. He closes his eyes, and finds himself alone in a dream on a windy rooftop on the lower east side. This is the last place he glimpsed… the last place he  _ captured _ Batman and Robin swinging through the night, nimble as circus performers through the lens of his trusty Contax 645. 

He remembers Robin’s lithe, dancer’s body, Batman’s broad shoulders, and shivers. Those aren’t just nighttime reveries, but actual physical things Tim has seen and studied as much as he can. He’s begun to live for the nights he sneaks off to watch them. 

Come to think of it, It’s strange that he’s alone here, in this fantasy. Every lead he can find in the paper suggests that the case Batman’s working on will take him here. Unless Tim’s calculations are off, and they rarely are (even in dreams), this rooftop _ should _ be the Dark Knight’s next stop. But there’s no sign of him. It’s oddly quiet for a Friday evening, Tim thinks as he checks his watch. He doesn’t have time to scream before a big leather hand closes in over his mouth. 

Tim’s eyes go wide and a flash of fear runs through him. He moves to push himself away, but he’s pulled into the shadow of long, black cloak. Tim yells but the sound is muffled against a leather glove. He’s locked tight against a massive armored body and he can’t move or turn around, but he doesn’t have to. He already knows which man is holding him, which man has controlled every dark fantasy of his for the last several months.

“My secret admirer,” Batman says, his dream voice deep and impassive as he takes the camera from around Tim’s neck and withdraws the film, slipping it into a pocket on his belt. Tim whimpers. “Tell me— what kind of pictures have you been taking of me and my partner?” He lowers his hand to grip Tim’s chin so the kid can respond.

“Just research,” Dream Tim breaths, a large thumb brushing his lip. His heart is pounding in his chest but he still has the fortitude to reach behind him and try to quickly withdraw his film from Batman’s belt.

“Oh no,” Batman grabs his slim wrist faster than a rattlesnake. “That’s mine. And you don’t want to mess with anything else in there.” Before Tim can respond, Batman scoops him up and there’s a loud bang as he shoots his grappling gun and sails off into the night, Tim in tow.

The hand is off his mouth and he’s free to scream, but Tim is quite literally scared silent, his eyes widening as they fly past the skyscrapers and apartment buildings. He’s starting to get lightheaded… he can’t hear the wind whipping past them. He feels a gentle mist of something on his face and everything goes black.

 

***  
  


 

Sometimes in this dream, Batman takes him right there on the rooftop. Sometimes they swing lower through the streets of Gotham until they reach an alleyway shrouded in enough shadow to hide the unspeakable things Batman does to him. But tonight, Tim has found for himself the crown jewel of his investigation: the detective’s lair. 

It’s dark when Tim opens his eyes. He rouses to find himself on his back, his wrists and ankles bound in metal restraints to what appears to be some kind of examination table. Through the light of the many computer screens around him, Tim can make out the hulking figure of Batman typing away, scanning through data.

“Pleasant dreams?” Batman asks without turning around. Tim’s palms feel sweaty as he tests his bonds. The restraints are solid. He can’t move his arms or legs but he can sort of wiggle his torso. He looks around and sees that Batman has removed his windbreaker and folded it neatly on the slightly smaller chair next to him. 

“Where am I?” Tim replies, his voice uneasy. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Batman says, rising from his chair to turn and face Tim. “You fancy yourself quite the detective, Timothy Jackson Drake. But I’ll be asking the questions tonight.” He approaches Tim and the kid gulps, hearing that Batman knows his name. “Let’s start with a simple one. Who sent you?”

Tim is momentarily flabbergasted. “I… what?”

Batman strolls closer to him and slips a gloved finger under his chin. “Answer me,” he commands. “Who. sent you.”

“No one!” Tim exclaims, shivering against the touch. “Th-this is something I’m doing for myself.” It’s the truth. He’s not working for a supervillain or the government, trying to find out the Batman’s identity. He’s doing it because he wants to, because it drives him, and because it stirs something deep and dark in him. He can feel that he’s so close to finding out who Batman really is, too. So because he feels emboldened and wants to show Batman that he’s not scared, he says it out loud.

“I’m going to be the one to find out who you are.  _ Me _ — Tim Drake. I don't work for anybody.” He stares up at Gotham’s knight with color in his cheeks and fire in his light eyes. Even though the cowl hides almost all expression, Tim swears he detects a flicker of surprise or maybe interest on Batman’s face. 

“Precocious,” Batman says softly, turning away from Tim perhaps to hide his smile. “But I’m used to that.” The fire in Tim’s eyes turns to panic when he sees Batman withdraw a sharp, metal object from some hidden plane in his suit. It’s a Batarang. He pulls forcefully at the restraints again, although something about the sight of Batman coming towards him with that thing is incredibly exciting. Fantasy Batman’s lips quirk to see his young captive struggling. 

“Hold still,” he growls and Tim sucks in a breath and tries to stop squirming. Batman leans in close to him and slits his sweater open in one clean flick. Tim gasps and Batman cups his breast with a large paw, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his skin.

“You’re nervous,” He comments, sounding satisfied and not at all surprised. Tim opens his mouth to respond —  _ of course he’s nervous! What kind of an observation is that?! _ — but only a squeal comes out before he feels the scratch of stubble on his chest and warm lips at his nipple. 

Batman tongues at him quickly and skillfully, licks his thumb and begins to brush Tim’s other nipple with it, loosening him up. Tim whines. It tickles and it feels strange and wet and good. The obscene sight of that iconic black cowl against his chest doing… these things to him… it’s more than Tim can bear and he bites down hard on his lip to keep from moaning. His toes curl and ankles yank against their restraints.  

“Nngh… Is this… Is this what you do to  _ Robin _ ?”  Tim bites out, his face burning, his penis hard against the fly of his jeans. Batman chuckles and Tim can feel hot breath on his chest. 

“I’ll show you what I do to Robin.”

He leans down to unlock the ankle restraints and Tim’s eyes go wide as saucers. His nipples are dripping with Batman’s saliva and he can feel the cool air of the cave brushing over them. Batman soberly unties the shoelaces on his small sneakers. Once his right leg is free, Tim tries to kick Batman’s hand away but the brute catches him easily around the ankle and continues to untie his left shoelace. He can see the trace of an amused smile on Batman’s mouth. 

He starts to feel lightheaded again when Batman’s hands meet at the fly of his jeans. 

“I'll scream,” he breaths, a vain warning. There's no one here to hear him. No one's going to come to his rescue. Batman only smiles and wrenches his thighs up and apart. Tim hears the soft whir of a zipper opening.

“Yes, you might,” Batman answers. And then strong hands are inside the waistband of his underpants, leather gloves cupping at his buttocks and after a little kneading and pinching, they're tugging his clothing down in one go. Tim bites down on his lip, hard and terrified at being so exposed. 

But he doesn't have a chance to look at himself because Batman’s mouth is covering him, licking and nosing up the underside of his scrotum. Tim sucks in a breath and yanks ineffectually at his wrist restraints. He desperately wants to shove Batman’s head away or at least shove a fist in his own mouth because the sounds he's making are unfamiliar and obscene.  

“Stop… _STOP!_ ” Tim pleads, as he feels Batman’s lips slide up and down the side of his shaft, pausing to tease his sensitive tip for a moment. Tim wails. This isn’t fair! This isn’t how it was supposed to happen at all. Batman was  _ his  _ project, the star of  _ his _ months of hard work, sleuthing and probing. Tim wanted to be the one to have Batman exposed, his identity compromised by Tim’s expert investigation. Instead he’s on his back, chained to a table, having his most secret and intimate parts violated by the very man he had wanted to unmask.

Batman ignores Tim’s cries, slathering the boy’s scrotum with messy slobbering. Tim feels Batman’s large tongue licking him intently, hears sloppy sucking sounds as Batman’s mouth trails lower and lower…

“Aah…!” Tim chokes out a sob, tears pooling in his eyes as Batman tongues him  _ there _ . His cock is painfully hard, twitching against his belly. A dribble of thick fluid leaks out from the head as Batman licks open his entrance. “Please!” He wails, shaking as Batman pulls away and fumbles with something in his utility belt. Tim cranes his neck up with wide eyes, trying to see what he’s doing. His questions are answered by a liberal squirt of something cold and wet at his small, pink hole. The sensation against his hot skin makes him shiver violently.

Batman bites the glove off his right hand and it falls to the floor. He hoists Tim’s leg up and then that hand goes to work, smearing the lube all around the area before slowly, but not exactly  _ gently _ pushing his index finger in. Tim yelps and another long tear slides down his cheek.

Batman studies his face carefully as he stretches him and his serious expression is almost too much for Tim, who can feel every quirk and pulse inside himself with deep intensity. Batman slips another finger in and begins to wiggle and curl them more earnestly, eliciting more strangled sobs and precum from his victim. 

It feels at once offensive and incredible to have another man’s fingers so deep inside him. Back in his bedroom, real Tim is sliding into himself with wild abandon, wishing his own fingers were thicker and longer, like Batman’s, wishing strong arms were holding him down. Tim bites his lip hard; he’s on the edge, but before he can come, Batman withdraws his fingers carefully and slowly. 

Tim howls, agonized, as his cock twitches helplessly between his legs. It’s suddenly torture not to be touched and he begins to weep, new tears spilling from his eyes. 

“Batman,” Tim sobs, his face a wreck of sweat and mucus. His chest heaves as a large hand presses down on him and he feels another cold shock when he sees that his captor has unfastened the fly of his own black work pants. The sight of Batman’s hard cock is enough to momentarily shock him out of his tears and he has a brief realization that his throat is hoarse from screaming. It’s… large, to say the least. Tim cranes his neck again, the color draining from his cheeks as he catches a better look at it, broad and pulsating between his legs. The cave lighting isn’t very good but he can make out enough to see that it’s covered in thick veins and resting on massive, shapely balls.

He doesn’t have too much time to look though because before he knows what’s happening, Batman is stroking it with lube and pressing it up against him. Tim gasps and throws his head back. He can feel it twitch hotly against his spread cheeks as Batman struggles to fit it into his small body. Batman’s face is extremely difficult to read, but Tim can see him grunting through his teeth, can even see the faintest blush creep into the visible half of his face. 

And then Batman gives a firm thrust, guided by his hand, and Tim can’t study his facial expression anymore. He’s too busy crying out because Batman is pushing into him and it  _ hurts _ . His hole is puckered, clenching angrily against Batman’s slow, intruding cock. Tim curls his hands into fists and scrunches his face up. He’s on the verge of tears again when the man barks at him, 

“ _ Relax,”   _ and pushes deeper still. Tim screams, his dick going soft from the pain and overwhelming sensation. He’s about three quarters of the way in when he gives another thrust and Tim sees stars. Batman seems to realize this is about as much as Tim is going to take, so he leans over, looks Tim straight in the eye, curls his hand around the boy’s cock and begins to move.

Tim shivers, wriggling as much as his restraints will allow him and squinting into Batman’s face. His ass is tender and every short thrust is nearly excruciating, but if he stares into Batman’s mask hard enough, he can kind of focus on the nice, skillful things Batman’s doing to his cock again and forget about some of the hurt. It doesn’t take very long for him to get hard again.

Tim lets out a low, needy whine as Batman jerks him to the rhythm of his thrusts. His stomach is doing flips, as though he’s swinging through the night air in Batman’s arms all over again. Batman leans in to kiss his neck again and suddenly, Tim’s already frantic heart skips a beat.

There in the doorframe is the shadowy but unmistakable figure of an adolescent boy, not much older than him at best. Tim knows immediately who it is and he gasps, crying out, but it’s that moment that Batman grazes his teeth against Tim’s neck, jerking him fast and forceful and Tim loses it, yelling as he spills all over his stomach. 

Another moment and Batman comes too, a dark guttural grunt slipping from between his teeth, as he fills Tim. When Tim looks up again, eyes starry with pleasure and wonder, the boy is gone. Another breath, and so is Batman and the dark cave. He lets out a satisfied sigh. Back on his bed at home, he’s flopping over onto his side in blissful exhaustion. Tim lays there, enjoying the last shaky waves of fantasy pleasure, before reaching for a tissue to wipe his sticky fingers.  _ Good work _ , he thinks to himself, as he drifts into sleep. 


End file.
